


Word From The Wise

by Drag0n_Fire



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Smoking, idk what else to put here sorry, this writing is about the characters in the roleplay not about an real people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0n_Fire/pseuds/Drag0n_Fire
Summary: Wilbur closes his eyes as he breathes in slowly, but Eret can’t tear their eyes away. Wilbur looks so alive, so real. Eret didn’t know how much they had missed Wilbur’s presence until now.---Eret sees Wilbur again.
Relationships: Eret & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	Word From The Wise

**Author's Note:**

> I am continuing to ignore my responsibilities to write about angsty block people.

Wherever Eret was, it was dark. Well, darker than dark. Deeper than dark. Something unnatural that couldn’t be compared to any mortal experience. But for Eret’s peace of mind, it was dark. 

They spun slowly in a circle, searching. Deep inside of them, in the purely instinctual base of any living thing, they knew that there wasn’t anything to see. There was no door, no windows, no anything. There was only nothing. They continued squinting into the nothing anyway, because if they admitted their logical brain was right, they might give into the panic that nestled right beside their instincts.

There was a small noise that had nothing to echo off of but still reached Eret’s ears. 

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Then there was a figure. They told themself that they must have somehow missed it, but they knew that it wasn’t there before.

Eret’s feet were stuck in place, but the figure closed the indiscernible amount of distance between them. Now only a few feet away, Eret can see the person in, contrasting harshly against the void around them.

“Wilbur?” Their voice doesn’t quite break, but it hesitates halfway coming out of their mouth.

Wilbur stares back at them from behind the scruffy hair falling over one of his eyes. The eye that is uncovered is shadowed by deep bruise-like bags. He still has his dark, dusty trench coat that’s just a size too big. Eret’s eyes travel to his chest, which is adorned with a large, gaping hole surrounded by blood that isn’t dried but doesn’t drip or spread. Eret looks back up at Wilbur’s face, and notices a small smear of red at the corner of his quirked lips.

“Wilbur,” Eret says again, partly to get a reaction, partly to confirm to themself what they were saying, and partly because it felt good to say that name in reference to a non-dead man. “You’re…”

There it was again.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Eret spots a lighter loosely clutched in Wilbur’s hand, red as his blood, red as a stick of TNT.

Wilbur looks away from Eret to reach deep into his coat pocket. His thin hand comes out holding a cigarette box that’s a bit battered and a bit singed at the corners.

Wilbur looks up at Eret silently watching his movements and holds the now opened box out towards them. “You want one ?”

Their nose involuntarily wrinkles and they hold up their hands to politely decline but Wilbur lets out a small breath of laughter and pulls the box away before they can say anything.

He quickly picks out a cigarette and holds it in his mouth as he slips the box back into his pocket, all with practiced ease. His face is washed in orange as he lights his cigarette. He looks younger for a moment in an odd way. It stirs up memories of campfires in Eret.

Wilbur closes his eyes as he breathes in slowly, but Eret can’t tear their eyes away. Wilbur looks so alive, so real. Eret didn’t know how much they had missed Wilbur’s presence until now.

Wilbur opens his eyes sharply. He pulls the cigarette away from his lips. “Word from the wise, one leader to another, people are always going to be upset, no matter what you do.” His words come out in puffs of smoke that make Eret’s throat itch. “There will always be someone that hates you.” Wilbur steps closer and tilts his head. “Even when everyone has left you; you can’t run from yourself.”

Eret’s eyes sting behind their sunglasses and their chest heavy with smoke tightens. This is not the Wilbur they missed. But he was still right, in a way. He was always right in some way. It used to spark gratefulness in them that slowly turned to envy, but now it brought something else that caused their breath to be trapped in their lungs and their hands to shake.

Wilbur puts a hand on Eret’s shoulder. The touch is jarring, but he ignores the way Eret twitches under it. “There is no such thing as the divine right to rule,” Wilbur says with a pointed glance at the crown sitting atop their curly hair. This close, the smell of destruction is suffocating. Wilbur pulls Eret closer and breathes into their ear, “Gods aren’t real.” 

Wilbur shakily pulls his hand off of Eret’s shoulder. He takes a step back. Then another. His dull eyes wander around Eret’s form. He hunches his shoulder as he looks away and drops what’s left of his cigarette. Eret flinches as Wilbur stomps his boot onto it, grinding it to dust.

Wilbur turns back to Eret with a smile, _his_ smile. A real one, or the closest to real Eret had seen in a while. “You better get back, now. Can’t go out without a bang, yeah?”

Eret sees Wilbur playfully salute and then they’re falling through empty air. Several screams are ripped out of them as they fall. Panic replaces their brain. 

They’re falling, they’re falling, they’re falling, they're falling, they’re fall-

They lurch up, clutching at their chest. The feeling of falling sticks to their senses, but under their body they feel something solid. 

Their hands tremble against something soft. Their bed. Their sheets. Their blanket. They kick their blanket off. They’re in their bedroom. They’re in their castle.

Their face is wet and their eyes sting. Their eyes have been watering.

They pull themself off their bed slowly to accommodate their trembling legs. They walk across the room to their window. They press a hand against the glass for a moment before deciding to rest their forehead there, too. The cold is biting but refreshing.

Their gaze lands on the vase sitting on the windowsill. It’s full of blue flowers that now have started to wilt. Ghostbur had given them to Eret.

Eret closes their eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add more to this, we'll see. I've still got so many other wips, aaah. My tumblr is @bee-bumble if you were curious.


End file.
